


The Dawn Comes

by Sairynn26



Series: Wicked Inquisitor [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Doesn't follow script, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Twists, Slow Build, Some outsider references, mentions of rape/torture, trigger warning, trust building, various POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairynn26/pseuds/Sairynn26
Summary: A twist in fate pulled Dalish hunter Athdhea Lavellan and Dawn, a girl from another world together, in unknown circumstances. After Corypheus uses Fen'Harel's orb to open the Breach, causing mass chaos, it is up to the Inquisition to set order right.





	The Dawn Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my works "A Fool's Love Game" will undergo a hiatus until further notice. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I felt uninspired to continue the story. On top of that, I get new inspirations, including this one. I won't give up on the story, I promise you that, it just needs a more in depth story. Until then, enjoy this one. 
> 
> A warning before continuing: as mentioned in the tags, there are trigger warnings of violence including rape. 
> 
> I would also like to acknowledge FenxShiral for their Project Elvhen: Book of Names series. Some elven terms derived from the work.

The chirping of the crickets fell silent as the first signs of light inched its way above the horizon. It wasn't dawn as of yet, and the night's dew on the grass had long reached its peak wetness in the grass, but it was at this hour that some of the forest creatures roused from their slumber to forage for their morning meal before the predators came out to play. The animals used the pre-dawn shadows of the forest to their advantage against the four-legged predators, but were ill prepared for clan Lavellan.

For it is also at this hour when the hunters leave their camp, to bring food for the People.

This hour was her hour.

Athdhea sat, perched on an oak branch approximately 15-18 feet off the ground, surveying her vantage points. At this height, she is at the advantage to strike her target, without the opposing side taking notice. She was smaller than the other full grown elves of the clan. At the age of 25, she only stood at five feet tall, and her figure was slim. Her mother worried she was starving herself with how thin she was, even though she could probably eat a druffalo. Hunters in training that have yet to see their tenth name day stood at her height, or are almost at that point. The hunters in her age group teased her relentlessly growing up, until about 2 years prior, when she was made the next chief hunter.

Two more of her hunters signaled their arrival, about 40 yards from her left and right peripheral. Senna flanked her right, Adahlen flanked her left. Athdhea gave the signal to spread out, silently and they didn't hesitate in her command. She trusted Senna and Adahlen most in her little squadron. They may have been taller, but they were the only two who stood by her in the age group. When Athdhea was seven, she witnessed Senna in the sparring corner of the clans camp sending arrow after arrow to the practice dummies that lined the border of the camp. She made every arrow in her quiver count, every arrow piercing the dummy in what could have been the enemy's most vital points. Between the brow, the esophagus, along the sides in the carotid and jugular arteries, and even the heart, where the aortic artery lies, even trailing down along near the spine. Senna was the reason Athdhea picked up her first bow, and after some degree of coaxing, Senna taught her how to use it. She was nine at the time, but first picked up the bow at the age of five.

“Vir Assan, lethallan,” Senna said. She spoke the words like a mantra. “'Be swift and silent. Strike true and never waver.' That is what Andruil teaches us.”

Adahlen came to the clan a year after Athdhea picked up the bow. She resided in clan Alerion, but was supposedly exiled. No one discusses her fate, and I don't press her. She was proficient at the bow, granted, but she taught Athdhea how to use daggers, as well as using the shadows. Just like Senna with the arrow, Adahlen knew where her strikes would count, at a melee range. “Shadow hide you,” she would say at their departure.

A mimicked bird call sounded at Athdhea's three o'clock, beginning the hunt. Quickly and silently, she descended down the branches, stalking the ground in its shadows. About a quarter mile from her original position, she spotted wolves, and ascended the branches of another oak, just as quickly and silently as she had left the last. The behavior of a wolf can be unpredictable depending on the season, but Athdhea didn't run into any wolves at this hour, unless if their herd was disturbed. Carefully shifting position to gain a better vantage point, she was correct on the thought of the herds disturbance. The wolves were circling someone. Their furs bristled, stalking on their front paws slowly, teeth bared, ready to strike. The poor soul was what looked like a girl in peculiar dress, slowly looking at the wolves. From this angle, she was bleeding and looked like she had broken her leg. She was human as well.

Looking toward her hunters, Athdhea signaled to flank the wolves, to try to take as many out quickly. A quick nod and they carefully got into location, trying not to rouse suspicion from the wolves. Usually when they hunt, they stay at a farther distance, but this was not that kind of situation. They were perched closer, border lining trees that were directly above them. One wrong strike, and the poor girl would be mauled.

Time slowed down as a pregnant pause choked the air. The hunters are in position, and their bows are notched. The tiny hairs on their flesh stood on end, and they took quiet, deep breaths to stifle the shivers fighting down their spine and each thud of the heart was a struggle to calm, in fear that the wolves would pick up on the nerves. The wolves were inching closer and no more time could be wasted.

The arrows flew.

Two of the wolves have fallen immediately and the third arrow missed a vital point on the third, slowing it instead of a one-shot-kill. There were a total of seven wolves, and there were five remaining, as the hunters notched and launched their arrows one by one. While the other wolves were in search of their intruders, one took advantage of the chaos and lunged for the human girl in the peculiar dress, plunching its teeth into her. She barely had time to move, to try to stand and run, as the wolf plunged its teeth into her right thigh, a blood-curdling scream echoing in the wood. It felt like time dragged as the last wolf, mauling its victim died, a pool of blood seeping into the earth.

“Stay still, we are here to help,” Athdhea said, her pack at the ready, shuffling through to find bandages for the stranger, and elfroot tonic. “Adahlen, Senna, please help me.”

“Lethallan, leave the shem, she lost too much blood,” protested Adahlen, but Athdhea ignored her, quickly moving to wrap the bandages and helping the girl drink the tonic. Upon closer look, as she worked, she noticed the girl was beautiful, despite the injuries and dirt that caked her flesh. Underneath the grime, she had a round face, and a moderately strong jawline. Her hair was long, about halfway down her back, tied into a peculiar braid, and the color reminded Athdhea of flames, some parts a deeper red and others a more copper color. Her eyes were an icy gray color and it was striking against her slightly tan skin. What really intrigued the huntress was the tattoos on the girls body. Both her arms, stretching onto some parts of her back were covered in various tattoos, some even on her thighs as well. Hopefully the Keeper can heal both the wounds and the tattoos. The mix of black, gray, and multiple colors were striking.

“Shem or not, Adahlen, she needs help. Please, help me get her back to the camp.”

Senna crouched to the girl in Adahlen's stead, wrapping her hands around the girl's ankles, with Athdhea supporting around her shoulders and neck. The sun has crested over the horizon at this point, and they won't be bringing game to the camp this time. Another squad of hunters will have to leave the camp to hunt.

If the trek back to the camp was slow, the stranger didn't know, because her new surroundings went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Vir Assan: "Way of the Arrow"  
> Lethallan: (loose translation) a term for familiarity; acquaintanceship


End file.
